Break Away
by Kari Kurofai
Summary: Draco's reflections on how he couldn't defy what his father wanted. part 5 for 100 themes


**Break Away**

When he was younger, Draco had wanted nothing more than to be just like his father. He knew nothing else except for money, class, and power through fear. If he followed these laws his father had set, he got whatever he wanted. That was just the way of things.

But there was one rule Draco had been unable to follow. He knew, everybody knew, about the Dark Lord's demise. But he was never allowed to speak of it. Unlike most wizarding children, he hadn't grown up being fed stories of "The Boy Who Lived."

He hadn't realized who it was he'd met in Madam Malkins at first. Really, not until much later. At the time, Harry been simply the scruffy, bespectacled boy with the beautiful emerald eyes. Though Draco had never said it out loud. A stupid thing to think, a worse thing to say.

How surprised he'd been, to see him on the train. To hear the whispers about him.

"_He's Harry Potter."_

Draco had smirked, and had acted like it wasn't important. He'd walked up those stairs, pretending to be the child his father had groomed him to be.

"_They say Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."_

And he'd held out his hand, and made Harry an offer. Just like his father had taught him. But Harry's emerald eyes had narrowed, and he'd turned Draco down almost immediately.

That's when Draco learned that his father's way, was not the way of everyone. Not the way _Harry_ did things. But that was how Draco had learned how to live. It was a method of life. Pain, emotional and physical, gains respect.

So Draco gave Harry both. Slamming him into the wall in the corridors, trying to knock him off his broom in Quiditch, taunting him any chance he got.

It was a game, to try and make the other crack. He never hit hard enough to make Harry bleed. And if Harry had ever fallen, Draco would have most surely caught him. There had only been one time in fifth year that he had gone too far, and won the "game." But that had been under Umbridge's orders, he had never wanted that. It was never meant to be more than an impossible game.

"_You will do this for me, won't you, Draco." _A cold, snake like voice. He wanted nothing to do with it. But he couldn't say that. He'd _die_ if he told them that. And his own father had held him down as Voldemort had branded the Dark Mark into his arm. And he'd screamed, and screamed, and screamed.

He knew that if he let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts, that Harry would most certainly _die_. And there was nothing he could do. He didn't taunt Harry that year, didn't push him. He even ditched their Quiditch match together.

_If he has to die, let him have just a few sun filled days first._ It was as simple as that.

Except that Harry had seen through him. Harry had _known _something was wrong. He'd known the moment Draco had failed to taunt him the moment they stepped on the train. The Slytherin had tried to ward him off, breaking his nose and everything. He'd never wanted to, but he had to keep up the act, if only a little bit. Or his father would know. And his father would kill Potter for it, without a second thought.

But Harry hadn't been fooled. A bond composed of jeers and snide remarks is still a bond. And Harry couldn't let it unwind like Draco had wished it too.

He'd found Draco crying, and Draco had lashed out at him, in a final desperation. Maybe if he hurt Harry, Dumbledore would have to confine him. He'd be unable to complete his task. And Harry was strong, even with the Cruciartus . . . Draco knew it wouldn't be enough to break him.

"Sectumsempra!"

There was nothing more painful, for either of them. A horrible mistake. The pain of the wounds and scars for Draco. The pain of the reality crashing down on Harry.

"Oh god, Draco . . . No . . ."

And Malfoy would have died, had Snape not shown up. He'd _wanted _to die. If he died, Harry wouldn't get hurt because of him. If he died, Voldemort wouldn't have anyone to try the impossible anymore. And he'd die looking up into those fearful, anguished emerald eyes.

But he hadn't died. And Snape had forced him to finish his task, on word of Unbreakable Vow. But Draco had chosen the night. The night when Harry was gone. If he was with Dumbledore, there was a good chance he'd live. And that was a chance Draco was willing to take.

He'd felt those emerald eyes on him as he'd raised his wand towards Dumbledore. He couldn't see Harry, but he knew he was there. It was the reason his hands had shaken as he'd held his wand. The reason he'd been unable to kill the old coot. How horrible would he look in Harry's eyes if he did that? He'd rather die himself.

The next year, he'd not been allowed to return to Hogwarts. Nor did he want to. Crabbe wouldn't talk to him, and kept Goyle from doing so as well. Pansy had always been after his money, and nothing else. Because he _failed_, there was no place for him. Not at school, not at home. And Harry was gone, and no one knew where. Draco was alone.

He listened to the radio every night. That's how he'd first caught Potterwatch, before it was password protected. And then he'd kept track of the passwords in his head, never writing them down, lest his father find out.

Some of the voices were ones he recognized. That Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher from third year. One of the Weasly twins, sometimes both. And once, around Christmas, Ron.

He'd been so furious. What was that weasel doing?! He was supposed to be protecting Harry! It was his _job_. And it was something Draco couldn't do.

And then, one night, a few hours before Potterwatch, his mother had dragged him downstairs.

"Is it Potter?"

Harry had been pushed into a kneeling position on the floor. His face was swollen, some kind of stinging hex maybe. The scar was nearly indistinguishable, and his cloths were rumpled and dirty. Emerald eyes stared up at Draco, defiant, startled, a silent plea in them.

Draco met his eyes with his own gray. He couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything. Couldn't even tell him that somehow, everything would be okay. Couldn't touch him.

"I don't know," he whispered finally, feeling his father's gaze on him. "It could be, but I can't say." Stall them, distract them, anything. He needed to think of a plan.

He waited as they dragged Harry and Ron into the dungeons, and avoided Hermione's accusing glare as he returned to is room.

There was only one option. If Harry nor he could apparate out of the manor, as per his fathers wards, then he needed someone who could. Someone inconspicuous.

The Slytherin snapped his fingers, and with a crack, one of the house elves appeared before him. "Master Draco, do you need something?" The creature squealed, bowing her head very low to the ground.

"Go to Hogwarts, now," Malfoy ordered in a whisper. "Get Doby, you remember him, right? Tell him to get into the manor's dungeons. Tell him Harry needs him." He thought a moment, "If you do this, Bisnsky, and it succeeds, I'll set you free."

The elf's wide eyes widened, and she vanished with another loud crack.

Draco twined his hands together, leaning his head against them. There was nothing left to do but pray.

And he stayed in his room, even as the mark burned with Voldemort's arrival. Even as he heard the outraged cries of his father and the Dark Lord. Even as they left the house to search for Harry, he didn't move.

The there was that stupid battle. His father had dragged him to it. But he would have gone anyways, just not for the reason's his father wanted him to.

He'd known where Harry would go. It wasn't hard to figure out. A room that meant so much to the both of them. A clubroom, a hideout, a place of dark plans, and safety. The Room Of Requirement. He hadn't know Crabbe and Goyle would stumble there too.

He'd barely arrived in time.

"_Don't kill him!"_

"Why not," Crabbe growled.

"T-the Dark Lord wants him . . . You can't," Draco had lied.

"We don't take orders from you," Crabbe hissed, firing another curse at Harry,a nd narrowly missing him.

"_Stop! Don't kill him! Don't kill him!!!"_

And then there had been fire. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He'd dragged Goyle away from the flames. Goyle had listened, and he hadn't made the Fiend Fire.

He'd thought they would die there. He'd been ready to.

Then Harry was suddenly there, and Draco was once more looking up into emerald eyes, like he had the year before. And Harry looked exactly the same. The shocked, anguished expression as he pulled Draco up onto the broom behind him.

"Why?" That was all Draco could ask as they barreled through the fire.

Harry glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes, and smiled. "Because . . . Somehow, loosing you would be like loosing an internal organ. It would be . . . Weird."

Draco curled his arms tighter around Harry's waist as they shot around a corner. "Hmm . . . Like, your heart or something."

Harry laughed, "yeah, something like that."

RANDOM AUTHOR RAMBLE

Ack . . . I wrote this once at school on paper, and then typed it. I hate school. :P

Anywho . . . I'm not sure if I conveyed the point exactly, I wanted to show how Draco wasn't like his father, that sort of "Breaking Away", is it okay?

I also think that this is what Draco is truly like. And the scene with calling for Doby in the books was total bull. How would Aberforth have known where Harry was just from that small glance through the glass? Bull shit. So I think Draco did something! Woohoo!

And plus, there's so many clues to the fact that Draco never wanted any real part in all of that. (which are mentioned above). But especially sixth and seventh year. Like at the end of the sixth movie, where Hermione asks Harry if Draco would have killed Dumbledore, and Harry instantly defends him, saying that he would never have done it, that he was forced into all that. Luv DracoxHarry/HarryxDraco. In my top five pairings, definitely.

The next theme is Heaven, and it's hard. :{


End file.
